Category: Songs

Come, come, come and make eyes at me
Down at The Old Bull and Bush
Come, come, have some port wine with me
Down at The Old Bull and Bush
Hear the little German band
Just let me hold your hand, dear
Do, do, come and have a drink or two
Down at The Old Bull and Bush

Talk about the shade of the sheltering palm
Praise the bamboo tree with its wide-spreading charm
There's a little nook down near old Hampstead town
You know the place, it has won great renown
Often with my sweetheart on a bright summer's day
To the little pub there my footsteps will stray
If she hesitates when she looks at the sign
Promptly I whisper "Now do not decline!"
But come...


In the little parlor on a cold winter's night
All is very cheerful, so snug and bright
Nell looks at me, but now not with a frown
She would not change with the Queen and her crown
It was there I first met the joy of my life
She gave her troth and is now my dear wife
Her eyes always glisten when she sees the old sign
So, all of you join in a glass of good wine

Up to your waist in water,
Up to your eyes in slush,
Using the kind of language
That makes the sergeants blush;
Who wouldn't join the army,
That's what we all enquire,
Don't we pity the poor civilians
Sitting beside the fire?

Oh! Oh! Oh! It's a lovely war,
Who wouldn't be a soldier, eh?
Oh, it's a shame to take the pay.

As soon as reveille has gone
We feel just as heavy as lead,
But we never get up till the sergeant
Brings our breakfast up to bed.
What do you want with eggs and ham
When you've got plum and apple jam?
Form fours! Right turn!
How shall we spend the money we earn?

When does a soldier grumble?
When does a soldier make a fuss?
No one is more contented
In all the world than us.
Oh, it's a cushy life, boys,
Really, we love it so;
Once a fellow was sent on leave
And simply refused to go.

Come to the cook-house door, boys,
Sniff at the lovely stew,
Who is it says the colonel
Gets better grub than you?
Any complaints this morning?
Do we complain? Not we.
What's the matter with lumps of onion
Floating around the tea?

The snow was very plentiful and clouds were very few
When a weather-beaten sparrow through a mansion window flew
Her eye fell on a golden cage a sweet love song she heard
Sung by a pet canary there, a handsome yellow bird
He said to her, "Miss Sparrow I've been struck by Cupid's arrow
Would you share my cage with me?" She looked up at his castle
With its ribbon and its tassel and in plaintive tones said she:

Good-byе, little yellow bird 
I'd rather bravе the cold
On a leafless tree,
Than a prisoner be
In a cage of gold.

The spoiled and petted yellow bird could scarce believe it true
That a common sparrow should refuse a bird with blood so blue
He told her the advantages of riches and of gold
She answered that her liberties,for gold could not be sold
She said "I must be going," but he cried "No, no, its snowing
And the wintry winds do blow, stay with me, my little dearie
For without you 'twould be dreary." But she only sighed "Ah, no."

When first I made my mind up that a soldier I would be,
The girl that I was courting with came round and said to me,
“Now I’ve had me photo taken Bill, and if we are to part,
Oh! Promise me you'll always wear my photo next your heart.”
I hung the locket and her ruby lips I kiss'd,
I borrowed my fare to Aldershot and went off enlist.

And with the photo of the girl I left behind me, 
I went and joined the army full of glee.
The sergeant said he wanted to remind me, 
That the doctor wanted to examine me,
Now when the doctor found that locket next to my heart, he said to me,
"Whose photograph is that sir that I find?
Is this the captain’s bulldog?”
I said, “No sir, if you please, sir, 
It’s the photo of the girl I left behind.”
 
I'd not been in the army long when the sergeant said, “My lad,
The captain's been complaining that your shooting’s very bad.”
If you stay in the army there will have to be a change,
So in the morning take a course of lessons at the range.”
I saluted and said, “Very well, the practise shall be done.”
And on the following morning off I went and got me gun.

And with the photo of the girl I left behind me, 
I went to practised shooting all the day.
But we found a gust of wind had been unkind and 
Blown the blooming target right away,
The captain said, “Our target’s gone, whatever shall we do?”
I shouted just to cheer him, “Never mind!”
If you haven’t got a target and you want something to shoot at,
Here’s the photo of the girl I left behind.

I never shall forget the day I first went under fire,
I'd been looking at that photo of that girl that I admire.
I thought her lovely face would encourage me to go,
And fight like English men should do when goin' to face the foe,
The Captain said, “We’re cornered boys, so fight like hell you must.”
I kissed that photograph, then they couldn’t see me for dust.

And with a photo of the girl I left behind me, 
I rushed into the thickest of the fray,
The captain said, “We're out of ammunition boys, 
I’m afraid its going to be a losing day.”
I said "Don't worry over ammunition, if you please;
I've something far more terrible, you'll find
I'll rush amongst the enemy and frighten them to death,
With the photo of the girl I left behind.

Ours is a nice house, ours is
Written and composed by Herbert Rule & Fred Holt

(from Australian sheet music)

Of all the houses in the world
There isn't one like ours is;
The landlord never grouses,
We've got no windows in the house,
It's healthy, let's the air in,
It also lets the foul air out
When father he starts swearing.

Ours is a nice house ours is
What a nice little house ours is
The roof's on the top of this pretty little shack
The front's at the front and the back's at the back
Ours is a nice house ours is.
We've got no rats nor mouses
Its cheap, cheap, cheap, sweet, sweet, sweet
Ours is a nice house ours is.
[twice]

Of all the gardens in the world
There isn't one like ours is;
Salmon tins are growing there
And other pretty flow'rsies.
Broken bottles, hobnail boots,
You bet and put your bobs on
People grow ears of corn, 
We grow thick ears with knobs on.

Of all the fathers in the world
There isn't one like ours is;
Some desp'rate people hold up banks, 
He holds up public houses, 
We fiddle for a living and 
The police have their suspicions, 
But though we keep on fiddling we 
Are none of us musicians.

My sweetheart said to me one night after tea,
You've been a long time in the courting of me,
I don't wish to beg an engagement ring, dear,
But twenty-two carat would prove you're sincere.

Where the violets are blue and the roses are red,
These twenty-two carrots went out of my head,
So I bought her six lovely big turnips instead,
Where the violets are blue and the roses are red.

Out ploughing the fields like the yeomen of old,
It started to rain, I caught a terrible cold,
I went to my bedroom, and when I undressed,
A pretty young nurse started rubbing my chest.

Where the violets are blue and the roses are red,
A lovely big poultice of linseed and bread,
When I woke up next morning that poultice had spread,
Where the violets are blue and the roses are red.

Now, two lovely daughters of old Farmer Green,
Two of the nicest girls I'd ever seen,
So handsome and beautiful and just in their prime,
They were hanging their washing all out on the line.

Where the violets are blue and the roses are red,
Their sweet little nick-nacks so carefully spread,
When I looked at that clothes line, I to myself said,
'Oh, Violet's are blue and Rose's are red!'

Down at my lodging when supper's brought in,
My portion of cheese is cut painfully thin,
I said 'my sight's failing, I can't see my cheese.'
But next night at supper, I felt more at ease.

Where the violets are blue and the roses are red,
She said 'How's your eyesight, now?' 'Better', I said,
'For now I can see my cheese straight through my bread'
Where the violets are blue and the roses are red.

The woman I married had been married before,
She praised her first husband till it made me sore,
Each night after supper, she'd rant and she'd rave,
She made me dress up to visit his grave.

Where the violets are blue and the roses are red,
'Not dead, but just sleeping' was carved at his head,
So I said: 'Wake him up and take him home instead.'
Where the violets are blue and the roses are red.


Lyrics from Mustrad: Fred Cottenham: The 'Crockery Ware' Man 

DELANEY'S DONKEY
Words & music by William Hargreaves
Francis & Day's Album of Famous Irish Songs.

Delaney had a donkey that everyone admired,
Tempo'rily lazy permanently tired;
A leg at ev'ry corner, balancing its head,
And a tail to let you know which end it wanted to be fed
Riley slyly said "We've underrated it,
Why not train it?" then he took a rag,
Rubbed it, scrubbed it, oiled and embrocated it
Got it to the post and when the starter dropped the flag

There was Riley pushing it, shoving it, and shushing it,
Hogan, Logan ev'ryone in town,
Lined up attacking it, shoving it and smacking it;
They might as well have tried to push the town hall down.
The donkey was eyeing them, openly defying them,
Winking, blinking, twisting out of place,
Riley reversing it, ev'rybody cursing it
The day Delaney's donkey ran the half-mile race .

The muscles of the mighty, never known to flinch,
Didn't move the donkey quarter of an inch
Delaney lay exhausted, hanging round its throat
With a grip just like a Scotchman on a twenty shilling note.
Starter, Carter, lined up all the rest of 'em;
When it saw them, it was willing then.
Raced up, braced up, ready for the best of 'em
They started off to cheer it but it changed its mind again

There was Riley pushing it, shoving it, and shushing it
Hogan Logan, Mary Ann MacGraw,
She started poking it, grabbing it and choking it;
It kicked her in the bustle and it laughed "Hee-Haw!"
The whigs and conservatives, radical superlatives
Lib'rals tories, hurried to the place,
Stood there in unity, helping the community
To push Delaney's donkey in the half-mile race.

The crowd began to cheer it. Rafferty, the judge,
Came up to assist them, still it wouldn't budge.
The jockey who was riding, little John McGee,
Was so thoroughly disgusted he went home to get his tea
Hagan, Fagan, students of psychology,
Swore they'd shift it with some dynamite.
Bought it, brought it, then without apology
The donkey gave a sneeze and blew the darn stuff out of sight

There was Riley pushing it, shoving it, and shushing it,
Hogan Logan all the bally crew,
P'lice and auxil'ary, the Garrison Artillery,
The Second Inniskillings, and the Life Guards, too,
They seized it and harried it, picked it up and carried it,
Cheered it, steered it, to the winning place,
Bookies all drew aside and committed suicide
Because Delaney's donkey won the half-mile race.

All the boys are longing to be put amongst the girls
Bless their little curls, 
They're all right, are the girls, 
That's when they keep themselves as girls, but very sad to state,
There's some of them have got in to a fighting mood of late;
So when the woman of today, 
Comes near, let me be miles away.

Put me on an island where the girls are few
put me amongst most ferocious lions in the zoo
You can put me on a treadmill and I'll never, never fret,
But for pity's sake don't put me near a Suffragette.
[twice]

Now for instance let us take the fellow newly wed, 
The fellow newly wed, 
Soon wishes he was dead, 
He'll walk around town in such a sloppy sort of way,
And to his dearest pal he hasn't got a word to say; 
So when the ladies gather near,
You'll find your humble disappear.


Just imagine how you'd look outside your cottage door
With children three or four, 
Dame Fortune may grant more! 
Your wife she sits in Parliament commanding prolonged cheers,
While little Tommy's sticking jammy fingers in your ears; 
An angel I shall choose to be,
The day that woman is called MP

Britons once did loyally declaim
About the way we rul'd the waves
Ev'ry Briton's song was just the same,
When singing of our soldier braves.
All the world had heard it
Wonder'd why we sang,
And some have learn'd the reason why
But we're forgetting it,
And we're letting it
Fade away and gradually die,
Fade away and gradually die.
So when we say that England's master,
Remember who has made her so

It's the Soldiers of the Queen, my lads
Who've been my lads, Who're seen my lads,
In the fight for England's glory, lads,
When we've had to show them what we mean:
And when we say we've always won,
And when they ask us how it's done,
We'll proudly point to ev'ry one
of England's soldiers of the Queen!
It's the Queen!

War clouds gather over ev'ry land,
Our flag is threaten'd east and west.
Nations that we've shaken by the hand
Our bold resources try to test
They thought they found us sleeping thought us unprepar'd,
Because we have our party wars,
But Englishmen unite when they're call'd to fight
The battle for Old England's common cause,
The battle for Old England's common cause.
So when we say that England's master,
Remember who has made her so

It's the Soldiers of the Queen, my lads,
Who've been my lads,
Who're seen my lads,
In the fight for England's glory, lads,
When we have to show them what we mean:
And when we say we've always won,
And when they ask us how it's done,
We'll proudly point to ev'ry one
Of England's soldiers of the Queen!
It's the Queen!

Now we're rous'd we've buckled on our swords,
We've done with diplomatic lingo,
We'll do deeds to follow on our words,
We'll show we're something more than "jingo."
And though Old England's laws do not her sons compel
To military duties do,
We'll play them at their game, and show them all the same,
An Englishman can be a soldier too,
An Englishman can be a soldier too.
So when we say that England's master,
Remember who has made her so.

I’ve ’ad four ’arf-pints at the “Magpie an’ Stump’, 
An’ two goes o’ rum jes ter keep up my sperrits; 
My mince-pies are waterin’ jes like a pump, 
An’ they’re red as a ferrit’s. 
Cos why? ’Tain’t the missis or kids wot I’ve lost,
But one wot I carefullie doctored an’ fed; 
The nussin’ an’ watchin’ ’as turned out a frost— 
The Jeerusalem’s dead! 

Yer won’t see ’im pullin’ the barrer no more 
Wi’ me an’ the missis a-sellin’ the coke; 
'E died ’s arfernoon at a quarter ter four, 
But I think that it’s rougher on me than the moke. 

’E’ad a big ’eart and a strong pair o’ ’eels, 
A temper as short as was e’er manifactured; 
In ’arness ’e used ter do ’ornpipes an’ reels, 
An’ my ribs ’e once fractured! 
’E bit like the devil, and eat like a ’orse, 
An’ orfen ’e’d try ter stan’ up on ’is ’ead; 
It’s all over now wiv ’is tricks an’ ’is sauce, 
The Jeerusalem’s dead! 

I stroked ’is old ’ead as ’e laid in the stall, 
An’ some’ow or other I felt I must kiss ’im! 
I’ve a wife an’ some youngsters — ’e wasn’t quite all, 
But I know I shall miss ’im. 
There’s one thing I’m certain, ’is grub was the best,
An’ I’ve gone short myself ter purvide ’im a bed: 
Come ’an ’ave ’arf a pint — there’s a lump in my chest 
The Jeerusalem’s dead!